Miscalculated Circumstances
by MelaRossa
Summary: When Light Yagami obtained the Death Note and started killing off those he deemed evil as the serial killer Kira, it was up to the World's Greatest Detective and Criminal, Beyond Birthday, to stop him. Unfortunately, he fell in love with him first. BBxLight
1. Impersonator

**You may notice that I change from referring to Beyond Birthday as B, BB, or Beyond. B is the name given when the time is set during his time at Wammy's House. BB is the name given during the LABB Murder Case. Beyond is the name after the LABB Murder Case is finished. If the time stated is set during the Wammy's or during the LABB case and the name "Beyond" is used, then it means that Beyond is thinking back about that event later in time. Obviously, the exception is when people are talking to him, when they may call him by any of these names, depending on who they are. Anyway, it's really not important at all, and I only sectioned it up to make things more colourful.**

**Also, I will be using the anime dates and not the manga ones. Sorry for any inconvenience.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.**

* * *

_April 2 2000_

_Winchester_

One of the many gifts A had, and perhaps one of the most appealing, was his natural ability to soothe troubled minds with only his presence. Perhaps it was something about his face, his gentle eyes and heart-warming smiles, or possible simply that he emitted a relaxed semblance through his skin. Whatever the cause, he found it no great feat to comfort a sobbing child at the orphanage of Wammy's House, either through want of making them feel better or just to silence them.

D was in no way a new-comer to said orphanage, having spent most of her few years of age behind the Gothic fence that enclosed the occupants like prisoners or animals. However, she was small, and she was fragile, and it didn't want much to reduce her to tears; a flaw that would prevent her from ever being able to achieve the main goal intended for the students. A simple thing like Mother's Day, an event that should mean nothing to the handfuls of parent-less children, had driven her into another one of her fits of hysteria.

Instantly, A had been at her side, kneeling down to her and with a hand on her shoulder. Everyone saw such, and A himself, as the pure description of kindness. He, to them, was innocent and perfect, unable to make a mistake nor carry a single fault. He was practically a saint to some, specifically those who had been distraught at some point and found themselves recovering under his care.

As B watched him with the child, he questioned the sheer blindness of every person to ever have met the so-called saint.

"It's not that they're blind; you can just see more than everyone else." A had told him once, during one of their many confessions of what lay behind the masks they had created and continued to wear. "Your eyes are better." He had teased.

B could understand wanting to hide his true self, but it didn't change the fact that he much preferred the real A than the artificial lie.

There was a high pitched squeaking noise as D wailed, her crying always being at its strongest right before it began to cease. She clenched the shirt of the boy beside her, scrunching it up and smearing it with her facial fluids that she had rubbed onto her hands. "But – I'll – never see them – agaaaaain!" She screeched to him. How he was able to translate was a mystery to the pale-skinned boy who was observing the scene from a safe distance, for he himself had no idea what she was saying even with his vast array of different languages conquered. Yet, somehow A understood, and he shushed her like the mother she was longing for.

"That's not true," he told her, his voice especially soft, "You'll meet again one day in Heaven. That's where they are. They're looking over you even right now." He rubbed some of the salty water off her cheek with his thumb. She looked at him with doubtful eyes in return. "Heaven? What if they aren't? There might not be a Heaven." It was a mumble, but at least it was vaguely understandable to those who couldn't speak Hysteria.

A let out a contended exhale, feeling that the fish had the hook and it would be plain sailing from this point on. "There's a Heaven, and your parents are definitely there. Only kind, good-hearted people go there. There's no crime or fighting; it's just filled with good people. There isn't any pain or sadness, so you shouldn't feel bad for them. They're happy. Everyone is happy. And one day, God will take you there, too, and you'll be together again forever."

"...When?" D rubbed her nose on the back of her sleeve, her face drying more with each word.

"Not yet. Not for a while. But one day you will. I promise."

She let out an awkward laughing sound and picked herself up off the floor, instead throwing herself into the boy's arms for a hug. "Okay, but you have to come too, A! Then it really will be a perfect world!" She released him, a broad smile contradicting her red and puffy eyes, and literally skipped away down the hall, probably looking for Quilish to tell him that she was okay.

A remained in the same position as he watched her go. His shirt stuck to his skin in some places and made him feel sticky.

"I think you gave me cavities." B told him, emerging out from behind the wall where he had been ensconced.

"And that's why you're going to Hell." He grinned in reply.

"That's better than having such a mind-numbing perfect world. How would I keep amused without crime or fighting to entertain me?"

Trying to rub some of the wet off his clothing, A looked up with a raised eyebrow. "Isn't that what what we're trying to eradicate as L?"

B decided not to answer that, instead letting his only friend believe what he wanted to believe, while he did the important thing and went to find him a fresh pair of clothes.

He questioned how anyone could think the act was genuine.

It was annoyingly obvious that A was very much an atheist.

* * *

_August 22 2005_

_Los Angeles_

Things had gone well so far.

No, it couldn't have been any better.

So many things could have backfired. So many risks could have resulted in failure.

Yet, on the day of the final death, here they both were.

The original and the copy.

Capturing L had been child's play to the extent that it was suspicious. BB had requested his presence at the location of his next kill, and that he should come alone. L had obliged. BB had instructed him to wait for his arrival in the car park under the first floor of the building. L did such. Surely he had been prepared for the assault. There was no way he could have imagined the meeting wouldn't end in being grabbed by two figures in black and being drugged. He must have had a plan ready, and that involved getting into the same room as his successor.

The question was, what was that plan?

No matter. BB understood the detective's move set far too well. Anything he threw could be countered. There was nothing he wasn't prepared for.

Usually he was against working with others, but this particular execution was an exception. Blackmail was a very powerful tool when used correctly, and the choice of helpers had been a wise one. Though just known as a conman and a thief, BB had a way of seeing a person's darker truth, and had no problem exposing it to the world.

His assistants, though not willing to be called such, dumped the unconscious body on the floor of room 404 before returning to their positions just outside the room. For all they knew, this was a simple forced meeting and nothing more. It was for the best that they knew no more of what was planned for the day, even if they may have suspected something more sinister. But what could they do? Their safety was on the line, and the safety of their families in the case of the conman. The best they could do was pray things went well and their temporary boss was happy enough to let them go without trouble after the job was done. He had even promised a large reward for their efforts. Hush money.

The effect of the drugs wouldn't last long. Undressing the unresponsive body had been somewhat easy, but redressing him in a white long sleeved top had been a challenge. It was neither a negative nor positive factor that L had dressed different for the meeting, for once changing his clothing for a black hooded jacket and a slightly less baggy pair of jeans. To be thorough of the switch, every last clothing item had been changed, not stopping at underwear, which actually made the successor feel rather queasy. Still, it was of vital importance to do the job properly. The tiniest detail always gave away the biggest clues.

Things would only become more challenging for this point on.

L was starting to stir. Now fully dressed in his proper attire, there was no more to do buy wait for the fogginess of his brain to clear. Due to the speed his brain usually worked at, it was significantly faster than with any other human being. Then again, classifying him as a human being may have been a stretch. He was more like a computer that was recovering his previous data after unexpectedly losing power.

_Loading..._

_Loading..._

_Loading..._

_...Checking for updates..._

He ran a bony hand through his mop of untamed hair as the room spun and twisted in circles. The walls moved around and merged with the floor in seas of colour, blurring up at the worst parts. Whatever had entered his system wasn't something lightweight, even if it had only kept him sleeping for a short time.

Stabling himself with a hand on the floor, L slowly raised his head, as everything started reverting back to its correct state. He groaned a little, as apparently his captor's face was still failing to process properly in his mind. It looked different. _Very_ different.

He waited for the face to change back to normal, to go back to looking like how it was supposed to.

It didn't.

It stayed different.

The face of his successor had changed, and now it had become a perfect copy of his own.

A trick? Some kind of mirror? But there was no frame, no edges of any glass. The man before him wore his clothes, but in exchange, upon looking down for confirmation, his clothing had been altered.

"Do you like it?" The copy asked, pointing to his new appearance. "It's incredible what a good surgeon can do for a little money." A penny here, a penny there. Theft was in no way below him, and it wasn't difficult to handle millions when he knew all the tricks of getting caught, and how to easily avoid them.

"That's impossible. There's no way that was done out of a description." Not good. He couldn't even deny that it was perfect. Every pore was the same as his own. It was terrifying, though he'd never acknowledge that emotion.

Nodding in agreement, BB pulled a small paper from his newly acquired pocket. He had transferred it over from his previous denim, it seemed. He held it with a first finger and thumb by the top, dangling in front of the puzzled detective's face.

It was a photograph.

A photograph of L.

He could have slaughtered his successor right there for the insolence.

"I had more, but I got rid of them. You can have this one." He said, letting it flutter out of his grasp.

"They were... a parting present from A. he always was good with a camera, but I was impressed he managed to get so many without being caught."

He had done well. L's visits to the orphanage were so scarce that the occupants struggled to get a glance at him. To get multiple pictures from every angle couldn't have been an easy feat.

He truly had been incredible.

There was no time for this. It as clear what was planned, and there was only so much time before the fourth murder would take place. L had organized, excusing the pun, back-up, but BB would have help of his own, and his own set of watchful eyes. He had to be discreet, and them meant not summoning them until the time was right Acting too soon would cost him his life.

L's eyes scanned every inch of the room. The door handle was waist-height, he noted, and the Wara Ningyo had already been nailed on the wall directly across from it. Interesting.

Ignoring the previous subject, he showed no signs of alarm. "A pulley system." He said, indicating to the doll nailed into the wall. "You wrap the thread around the nail head and... But it requires two nails. You only have one. Which means you need another way of locking the door." A flaw in his last murder scene, perhaps? No, to even hope for that was nonsense.

"Manually." The killer explained, coolly.

"But the door is locked from the inside. In order to lock me in to kill me, you would also have to be inside with me." There were no windows to jump out from, and that would be far too obvious. There was the possibility of going into the next room, but that was also a terrible move.

"Yes, that would be right." BB made himself comfortable by sitting in the characteristic crouched position in a chair across the room, directly facing L. "But I'm not going to kill you. You're going to kill yourself."

A scoff in response.

"Don't deny it, _Lawliet_. You know you've been thinking about it. You know you've considered it yourself." Man in question narrowed his eyes. His face had been revealed, stolen, and now his name was being flung around. It was hardly a good day.

"You're tired. I can see it in you. You need this. You need to be beaten, just once. Then you can rest, can't you? You just need this one failure, then you can finally stop this..."

"No. I don't. Don't delude yourself into thinking I'm in pain."

"Who's deluding themselves, me or you? I know you better than you do."

"Creating an artificial image of me that isn't true-"

"Is it, Lawliet? Is it really artificial? Is it fake?"

He was smiling. This was pleasing him. He had wanted this for so long, and it felt just as amazing as he had dreamed...

"The fact that you believe I would die over this should be your answer."

BB shook he head and laughed, just a little.

"This was just to make it easier for you." He said. "Tell me, Lawliet, do you remember your first case? It was to stop a war, if I'm not wrong." An involuntary shiver shot through the detective's spine. "That was brave of you. War is such a dreadful thing. The fighting, the fear, the death... Especially the _bombs_. So destructive..."

The urge to vomit was suddenly the most prominent thing in the world.

No.

No, no, no, no.

_That's not possible._

He wasn't implying it. He couldn't be.

"Back-up..." He spat the name through gritted teeth. BB was anything but pleased to be called by such a lowly title, but striking a nerve was too much of a victory for his mood to be ruined.

"I thought, just a little something to wipe out Winchester would be enough- I know how you love it there- but I wouldn't be surprised to find much, much more receives damage as well. Then there's the matter of the survivors... They won't be happy to have a sudden bomb dropped on their country. An accusation or two really does a lot..."

L was not naturally aggressive, but it was only the knowledge that his successor was _asking_ for it that kept him from ripping his throat to pieces.

It had to be a bluff. He couldn't have done this much.

"You're lying."

"Is that _really_ a risk you want to take?"

Damn him.

Damn him!

Doing all this for a title... For the position of the World's Greatest Detective... There was no way such a deranged man could have that much power. The fact that he had even got together the money for facial reconstruction was incredible. He couldn't have actually gone as far as to...

"The clock is ticking. If you willingly follow my orders, I'll immediately prevent the launch. However, should you refuse.." He held out a clenched fist, keeping it closed for a few seconds, then opened up his palm and made a "poof" noise.

"I may have even set up a few rumours about you to go with the attack. Do you feel popular, Lawliet? Millions will be talking about you, soon."

This was too much. He had overdone it. There was no bomb. He was definitely lying. There was no need to freak out over a few scary words. That was fine... Now, he had to make sure that BB was out of the way before he really did do something insane. Like his successor, L had also taken the time to arrange a few things, but due to the fact that his required precise timing, they required an activation signal instead of a cancellation signal. For one, there was to be a SWAT team sent in, should the cell phone L was carrying be activated.

This phone was in the pockets of the jeans BB wore.

That wasn't a problem.

Doing his best to act defeated, which he had never before had to pretend to feel, L stared down at his toes. "...There's a SWAT team due in here in under three minutes. I suggest you stop that. They arrive if my phone is left inactivated for more than an hour."

Shrugging, he fished the red mobile out of his pocket, and threw it across to L, seemingly not caring at all what did or didn't happen. He was enjoying himself far too much, being so arrogant.

L felt a wonderful sense of self satisfaction as the familiar glow of the screen lit up, revealing a new message. These games had gone on for far long enough. This was to be their last battle. This was the end to the war between the original and the back-up, after all these years. Yes, he would have hoped for it to have ended differently. Perhaps, in another life, things would have worked out differently. But not this time.

...New message?

But the phone was just to be used for the SWAT team. Who had gotten the number? Even Watari didn't know he had it.

How had...

...

"...Beyond..."

Boy in question hummed back.

"...You should go."

"What? Is there a problem?"

"There's no problem."

Suddenly, L's satisfaction had left him. His voice was quiet, but he didn't sound uncertain of what he was saying. His eyes were blank and dead, the shine dulled completely out. He wore his head low, and his shoulders seemed to weigh him down more than ever, like he had never noticed how heavy it was to carry himself until right in that moment. In those few seconds, he had felt the pain of a thousand burdens that he had carried without struggle crashing down on him, suffocating him.

He wasn't being his patient, calm self. No sooner had BB risen from his seat was he being thrust towards the door. It was so unlike him... There had to be something he was planning. Some trick he thought he could fool the younger man with by acting as though he was going to go through with killing himself. But he was making it so obvious. The acting was so sloppy. Why wasn't he trying to be more convincing?

_No, it doesn't matter. Whatever he's planning, I can counter it. I won't let him beat me. Not when I've come this far. He'll probably see through the bomb lie, but that's fine. I have plenty more where that came from. The worst he can do is be summoning some kind of back-up, but I have no problem with any of it. I can't fall now. I won't fall now._

A's goal was in sight.

He had to complete his task.

Those cold eyes stared at him, waiting, _pleading_ for him to step outside of the room. There was something he had to do on his own.

"Be sure to lock the door tightly."

There was no way he was going to go through with it, but there was no harm in humouring him. Despite having heard him, the detective gave no definitive response.

"Goodbye, L Lawliet."

It was actually rather disappointing to have such an anti-dramatic farewell. He had even avoided the opportunity to call him "back-up" one last time before closing the door and clicking the lock in place, as instructed.

"Goodbye."

* * *

_August 23 2005_

"_...Yesterday, the fourth murder of the Wara Ningyo Murder case took place..."_

"_...The victim was Ryuzaki Rue..."_

"_...Private detective working on the case..."_

"_...The victim was found alive, but died moments later from the serve burns..."_

The media were going crazy over it. News stations covered the story over and over, talk shows discussed it like cheap gossip, and there was even rumours of a movie being made. It was apparently going to be a romance.

How disgusting.

Beyond could not pretend to be entirely satisfied.

He had been waiting for L's next move. He had been waiting for a random undercover cop to grab him and lock his hands in handcuffs. He hadn't anticipated that L would die so easily. It was... sad. His whole life had become dedicated to that one moment, and the truth be told, he wasn't expecting it to go so advantageously. It had been too _easy_.

Had the bomb threat really been enough?

Not only that, but there was the trouble with his numbers...

Naomi Misora had been a good choice She was a wonderful pawn on L's part. However, her intelligence was something Beyond needed to use for to his advantage. And so, he had willingly confessed that he knew she could do capoeira, despite her never having told him.

His intention, though not obvious to her, was to make her catch him while he was burning. He _wanted_ her to save him. Or, he wanted her to save the man who was burning to death.

L Lawliet's lifespan was not supposed to run out for a few more years.

So, it seemed like an interesting idea to let him experience the very place he sent so many criminals to in his career, and have his remaining time spent rotting in a jail cell.

Naomi would realise that the fourth murder as a suicide, and that Ryuzaki Rue was the killer. She would run down the stairs and find the "killer" burning to death. She would save him. He would be put on trial, seen as guilty, and receive a life imprisonment.

Except for the fact that he had died before his lifespan ended.

When BB had killed his three victims, their lives also were cut short before their time- incidentally, only by a number of hours, or at the most, days. Did suicide run under the same principal? When A had killed himself, he, too, had an unexpected death...

But Beyond had seen lots of suicides that met the end of a lifespan from the media. From all the suicide victims he had seen the faces of, A and L were the only two who didn't follow their numbers. What was the connection?

Watari, or known previously as Quilish Whammy, interrupted those thoughts by bringing a cup of freshly made tea and a bowl of sugar cubes. He had left the man who he believed to be his surrogate son mostly in peace since finding him watching the ambulance carry away the charred body the previous day. He felt it best to let him grieve in peace, but was sure to emphasize that he wasn't going anywhere, should he be needed.

Fooling Watari, the man who had raised L since he was eight years old, had been the ultimate hurdle.

And, of course, he had failed.

There were some things even the World's Greatest Criminal could not achieve.

But, Watari did not make a fuss over it. He was not positive of the replacement. He only suspected it, and had no intention of acting on it until he was certain. It could easily have been that L was acting differently due to the shock the previous day had caused. Being brash would do no good.

...That is what he told himself, anyway.

Maybe the truth was that, replacement or not, he was weaker than he believed himself to be when it came to the detective. If he could confirm that he really was Beyond Birthday, what would he do?

There was a need for the truth, but at the same time, he didn't want the arduous answer.

* * *

Briefly, Beyond considered the idea that the message on his phone had been what had triggered the strange behaviour in the detective moments before his death, but quickly dismissed it. Surely what it had contained would upset him, but nothing that could have driven him to lean closer towards pouring the gasoline that had been provided over himself and burning himself to a chrisp.

L's real phone had been switched with a fake by the thief while the conman had held his unconscious body. They were the same name and colour, but it wouldn't have been hard to tell the difference if he had time to fully observe the two, side by side. Thankfully, he had the object in his sight for only a few seconds. Replacing it with an identical phone had been ambitious, since there was no way of telling what kind of cell phone he would have. The best Beyond could do was imagine what it would look like if he were to chose a phone himself, and hope for the best. His estimate had been spot on.

While unconscious, using a third phone, the thief had sent a text message to the fake phone while the two men had been talking. Of course, this phone was not turned on, and the vibration was off, so there had been no way of knowing it had arrived.

The message she was ordered to send consisted of a single letter. It explained the motives behind the LABB Murder Cases better than any biography or detailed book could.

_A._

The one it had all happened for.

Beyond had been expecting more than a few tricks up his sleeves, but all he had to do was imagine where he could plant them if he were L himself, and use that to figure out what they were and their location.

A cell phone. Easy to hide in a pocket, but he had to be something that he could do without looking. Calling a number would be too difficult if he were being watched or attacked, so it had to be something simple like turning it on. What he had said could have been true, and there could have been a force of men destined to arrive if the phone was left untouched for a certain period of time, but... It seemed more likely to be the other way around.

Second was a belt buckle. The buckle was loose, Beyond noted, when he changed their clothing. Most likely another device.

He had been prepared for wire tabs, but L had either been feeling cocky enough that he wouldn't need them, or afraid that they would cause him trouble.

Among with few other precautions, there had, slipped inside the jacket in a specially made pocket, been a loaded gun.

The purpose of it was a mystery with many possible theories.

* * *

2006

Location Unknown

"Watari," Beyond called, stirring his sugar with added tea together in an attempt to make them mix into something more than a crunchy, wet sludge. "How do you feel about a change of location?"

The Englishman had been expecting this repeat of pattern. L, and therefore Beyond, had always been like this, spending weeks to months in one place before picking somewhere completely new and making himself comfortable there. Had there been any major cases on, he would often reside in the country of its origin or one nearby; it made getting to the news channels more simple. However, nothing had particularly caught his attention in any destined country, and instead his cases had been spread of to many less interesting crimes all over the world. Nothing was worth a visit. Therefore, now sick of repeating hotels, he was free to go to any place that caught his eye, an opportunity that some would kill for (and in one of the cases ongoing at the time, they actually had).

Sometimes he would spin a globe and place his finger on a random country, or other times he would pick the birthplace of the next person he saw in a newspaper.

This time, however, he actually felt a need to go somewhere for the culture, and not simply for a change of scenery or a case.

Japan had always been a place of fascination to Beyond, and it seemed like a good time to go, with nothing else to in particular to do.

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading, and I'm extremely sorry for any dissatisfaction this story caused.**


	2. Laughter

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.**

* * *

_August 22 2005, Human Time_

_Shinigami Realm_

A scatter of dust rolled across the anhydrous ground, shining in the light from an unseen force as the glitter over a scrunched piece of crate paper from a child's crude piece of artwork.

The majority of creatures inhabiting the bleak plains of practically _nothingness_ cared not for the changes in the realm of the living, nor the events ongoing while they, like every hour of every day, gambled their years away, killing time before they killed humans, only to repeat their cycle of indolent behaviour.

One in particular, though not an outcast of this system of lazing through life, had considered the idea of doing more than throwing sand until it was time to take the next human life for his own. His own world was nothing but a void. Wasting energy wandering through, as he had in the past, looking for a source of amusement was utterly pointless.

The human world, however...

To Gods of Death, humans were often seen as nothing more than fish in a pond, swimming around and emerging themselves in utter nonsense, believing their lives to be of any value. They were meat. A tool for extending their own lives, and that time extended would be used to kill more. But, just because they were to be fished out and eaten someday, did that not mean they could be admired while they were swimming?

It did not bother him to be laughed at for taking an interest in watching the world below. While they laughed and pissed their lives away on being bitter, at least he could laugh and piss his life away while being at least vaguely amused.

And, so...

It had been over twenty human years since a pair of Shinigami eyes had been dropped into the human realm. At the time, it was nothing more than a rumour, some in-joke that nobody really laughed at. They scoffed at the thought of going through so much trouble. And for what? Some kid who would die in eighty years, tops? It was the work of a human-lover, they had said.

But the Death God who had felt the pains boredom understood the reason for the eyes. It was entertainment. It was tampering with a fish in the pond to see what would happen. He, too, wanted to see how a human would respond to being born with something not from his world. Perhaps he would think of himself as tainted? Perhaps he would believe he was a messiah to lead the world into a becoming a better place? Or maybe he was intelligent enough to know that he was nothing more than a play-thing for some higher power.

The child was born and grew up with seeing death in every face. It was understandable that he should think it to be normal. He had never lived without death. He followed death, and death followed him, to the extent that he came to accept that dying was more natural than living.

Beyond Birthday, though born human, would have made a curious Shinigami. Unlike all the fools who did not understand how it felt to be truly bored. The human was something he could relate to. Should he ever meet the one to have dropped a pair of eyes, the bored Shinigami would have applauded him. But where was he now that his child was all grown up and killing for himself? Had he been watching his little boy all these years? Why abandon something with so much potential?

In a strange way, the bored God felt sorry for the human. He deserved a win, after all the fun he had provided.

For a human month, the boy had been busy. He killed with his own hands, and he manipulated others without the work of any magical book. Every day his plan would progress without flaws.

Today was the last day, or so he had said. Unable to figure out his future actions alone, the Shinigami had relied on watching him and listening to him in an attempt of figuring out how everything was going to go. He understood only the basics, but that only made it more thrilling.

So, he wanted this _L Lawliet_ person to kill himself.

Too bad for him, the guy's lifespan wasn't ending in a while. Murder would cut a lifespan short before its intended finish, but a lifespan would show the ending date of a human if they committed a natural suicide without a Death Note intervening.

A Shinigami's eyes were different to a human with the eyes of a Shinigami. The Death God could see the real lifespan of a human with the eyes, even if they could not see it themselves.

Beyond wasn't dying for a while, either.

After all his work and all his struggles, nobody was going to die on August 22. There was no real bomb; the reaper had been watching him closely enough to know that he had set nothing up, and that it was just a lie. L had probably figured that out, and that's why he wasn't going to die. Somehow, Beyond would get away from death... But just because he was alive didn't mean he would provide more entertainment. What was the point of watching a guy slowly rot in jail? Whether he had the eyes or not, there was only so much the human boy could do behind bars.

What a waste.

Unless...

What would happen if L really did kill himself?

Beyond wasn't going to die from the day's events, not directly, anyway.

There was no bomb, so no innocent people would be saved.

The only life that would be extended if the Shinigami were to take L Lawliet's life would be his own.

It had nothing to do with caring about the human boy, or taking any sides. He would just provide more entertainment if he won the little battle.

The gasoline and lighter had already been prepared, waiting patiently for their roles, their purpose in this theatre show.

Placing his notebook of death on the ground before him, a pair of demonic yellow eyes turned to red, glowing as they scrawled out the name on the page, followed by a few details of the death.

He felt laughter slipping past his lips as the clock ticked away, each second leading loser to the climatic finale.

The victim's eyes glazed over as he held a cell phone in his hand.

The laugh broke out in a burst as he held back his head, arching his back and swinging his elongated arms to the ground.

Now what was going to happen?

"Humans are so _interesting_."

* * *

_November 28 2006_

_Japan_

It was even unclear to the man himself whether he was trying to work or attempting to build a fort out of sheets of paper. Somewhere between the two, perhaps. The sheets had piled up all around him, enclosing him inside his paper walls. The slightest movement would have scattered documents everywhere, but he didn't seem to mind, even going as far as to have a bowl of ice cream right next to police files. The sauce was dripping over the edge, but it would be a few seconds more before it stained the white with droplets of sticky red.

He enjoyed pushing himself and using every sense for a different purpose, juggling reading and simultaneously listening to the sound of the news channel. When he had all the information there was available, it became a nice background noise, and it was surprising how much could be learned from the commercials alone.

The tip of a pale index finger caught the cold strawberry sauce before it could do any harm.

"_...The same assailant who attacked six people at a busy shopping district in Shinjuku yesterday has struck again, taking eight people hostage at this daycare centre. His captives include both children and teachers. The police have now identified the suspect as 42-year-old Kurou Otaharada, currently unemployed..."_

Beyond clicked his tongue, looking away from stacking yet another file. He had been attempting to master reading one page with his left eye and another with his right, but the announcement had drawn his attention away.

_Kurou Otaharada..._

The picture on the screen showed his numbers clearly enough. He wasn't dying for a while. Damn.

There were already plenty of officers at the scene, so there wasn't much the detective could do to help them. Maybe if he could get the name of a hostage, he could look for a picture of their face and find out what was going to happen by looking at their lifespan... No, if it was murder then their lifespans would be cut short. There really wasn't anyone else to call who wasn't already there.

_Annoying..._

Beyond sighed and returned to his building his fortress. He really couldn't stand the feeling of being beaten like this, especially by such a sad excuse for a killer.

"_You can't help but feel concerned for the safety of those hostages."_

"_You're absolutely right. We'll continue to monitor the situation from here."_

He twirled his spoon around the top of his food, dipping the metal in strawberry goodness before bringing it back to his mouth. The craving for pure, unaltered jam had been hanging over him for a long time, but he dared not eat it out of the jar any more for fear of raising Watari's suspicion further. Even after a year, he was still being monitored, though they had both begun to doubt that any detriment would befall the impersonator should he be exposed. The best he could do was eat strawberry flavoured things occasionally and hope that it would fend off the need for his preserved fruit.

"_Wait! We're seeing something here! It looks like movement at the front entrance!"_

"...Oh? What's this?"

"_The hostages are coming out! And they all look to be unharmed! The special forces are taking action; they're moving in! We don't know if the suspect has been arrested... Huh? Yes? Okay, we now have confirmation. The suspect has been found dead inside!"_

A drip of melted ice cream dribbled down the side of the frosted bowl.

"_I repeat, the suspect is now dead!"_

Beyond gripped his knees, pulling them closer to his chest, the spoon dangling between his lips.

_How? His lifespan obviously stated that he wasn't to die for several more years. They can't be serious... Did I misread the numbers? No, that's impossible._

He twisted himself around, searching for his laptop, thankful that it had yet to hold him up by going to the screen-saver. Picture, picture... He had to see Kurou's face.

"_The Special Forces are denying allegations that they shot the suspect."_

"_So it's quite possible that he was feeling cornered and decided to commit suicide?"_

"_Well, according to statements from the hostages, the suspect just suddenly collapsed!"_

Fingers stabbed at the keys on the keyboard as the detective searched for a police record. He had been over the news a lot recently, so it wouldn't take more than a few seconds to find his face...

The spoon slipped from his mouth as the screen loaded up to reveal the criminal once again. Much against his will, a small, silent gasp escaped Beyond's lips as he stared above the head on the man on the screen.

His name and numbers were missing.

He was dead.

* * *

_November 29 2006_

_Japan_

It was murder.

It had to be.

Those numbers had definitely stated a later date; there was no denying it.

But those numbers had been removed, as the object of the media's attention had become a very cold corpse on a metal table in the morgue, reduced to a lump of expendable meat.

The question was, _why?_

Well, he knew why. The victim had a heart attack.

The better question was, _how?_

At first, Beyond had considered that one of the adult hostages had killed him to protect the children; however, a preschooler was too young to be able to lie successfully about what they had seen. All they knew was that one minute he was raging around as an angry bull, and the next minute his lifeless body was curled up on the floor.

No person was seen coming in nor out until he was already dead.

So the thing to kill him must have been already inside his body, lying dormant. Most likely a poison, since being killed by a natural disease wouldn't count as a murder, and the victim's lifespan would have stated the time of his death.

Looking through his and his family's medical history was a waste of time. The important thing was to find any traces of toxins in Kurou's body.

...So, where were they?

His body had been checked repeatedly for foreign bacteria, but every test came up with nothing. The man hadn't even been doing any drugs, unless you count aspirin.

While circling the medical table, the detective tilted his head to the side. There had to be some obscure cause that only he would recognize. If you need a job done right...

He picked up the fleshy left wrist and immediately dropped it, allowing it to thump against the table, as if that would provide some aid in solving the cause behind the death.

The public had already accepted it as incredible fortune, or that it was fated that those hostages would live, or God's will that his children were to be saved, and evil was to be punished for his sins.

It was just some freak miracle.

"...A miracle? Does such a thing really exist?

The corpse did not prove to be much of a conversationalist for Beyond.

* * *

_December 3 2006_

_Japan_

The creature had only introduced himself a few minutes before, and already the teenager could tell that he was more than _slightly_ infuriating. His skeletal arms grabbed the red fruits provided on the table, which the boy had actually been intending on eating himself, and devoured them one by one in under three bites per apple, swallowing core and pips as they were. He probably could fit the entire basket in his mouth at once and still have room to talk, but he seemed to be savouring them.

"I just have one more question I want to ask you." Said the human, silently hoping the creature was a strict vegetarian and not an omnivore. "Why was_ I_ chosen for this?"

The monster was too busy eating to care for the question immediately.

"Hey, are you even listening?"

He swallowed and wiped the back of his arm across his mouth, rubbing away the juice, somehow not smudging what looked like his black lipstick. Apparently that was just how his face was. Somewhere between a demented clown and a Gothic transvestite.

"Apples in the human world are worth the trip. What's the best way to describe these... _'Juicy'?"_

"Just answer my question!"

The monster scoffed. "I didn't choose you. Don't you see, this is all just an accident? You actually thought you were chosen because you're so smart, or something? Don't be so vain." The human wasn't sure what to say to that, instead allowing the strange creature to continue. "It just happened to fall around here, and you just happened to pick it up; and that's all there is to it. That's why I wrote the instructions in English, the most popular language in the Human World."

"Then why did you drop it in the first place? You even wrote down specific instructions, so don't try to tell me this was an accident!" Asked the boy, admittedly already sounding annoyed. He was. Just a little. The Shinigami was vexing.

"You're asking me why? I did it because I was bored."

* * *

_December 5 2006_

_Japan_

Kira.

That was the name bestowed upon the killer by the public. It had been taken from the English word "killer", apparently, which provided Beyond with an odd sense of felicity. A murderer that caught criminals, and a murderer that killed criminals. They were well suited for each other. Maybe he was even worthy of competing against the World's Greatest Detective. Said detective struggled to keep his enthusiasm at a healthy level at the prospects of what the day would bring. The following events would provide more than just answers about the killer's location. It was an invitation.

_Play with me._

With his dream of becoming L achieved, life had grown too easy for Beyond. Everything he wanted was at his finger tips. He could control any branch of law enforcements with a few words, and any organization would bow down to him by the end of the afternoon. All of his desires could be claimed through the power of a single Gothic letter and a laptop.

Except a playmate. He needed a nemesis to occupy his attention, someone to challenge him. He longed for the feeling of animosity and the strife of a true battle. Who was there now, with L dead and gone? Those pathetic wannabe criminals were nothing but the dirt beneath his shoes. They had all believed themselves to be worthy of taking on L, and they had all been nothing but worthless failures. He needed real contention. He _lusted_ for it.

It was time to put Kira to his first test.

The first fault in Kira's wondrous plan was his reliance on the media. It really hadn't been a problem to prevent a criminal named Lind L. Tailor from being released to the public, nor had it been troubling to convince him to risk his life for a chance at freedom. He was originally going to be executed later in the day for his crimes, but Beyond highly doubted he would last long enough to be freed. Still, he convinced the man to impersonate the World's Greatest Detective with the bribery of his freedom, should he survive the broadcast. Since it was his best source of information, there was no reason Kira wouldn't be watching television.

"_We'd like to apologize for the interruption. As of now we're bringing you a live, world-wide broadcast from Interpol's ICPO."_

Beyond stuck his thumb to his lower lip.

The room he was stationed in was, literally, lacking all furniture but the laptop. It was only himself and his cherished piece of technology, the screen illuminating his face with its glow. They were both placed on the floor, but with no table to support his keyboard, he had to lay his arms over his knees and point downwards just to type. Arm cramp was no fun...

He shifted his leg over, just for once curious to try a different position. His left knee stayed up, close to his chest, while he sat on his right foot in a semi-fetal position. For anyone who knew the boy, it would be recognised as his successor's usual sit.

_It's been a while since I've spoken to anyone at Wammy's. Near, Mello, and Matt should be following the Kira case pretty intensely themselves, even if they are still in England. It won't take long for them to see this message, either..._

Beyond promised himself that in the following days he would contact the orphanage. The second child in line would surely be agitated by the lack of communication between them.

That could wait until later.

Lind L. Tailor was already finishing his speech. He had done a wonderful job so far, Beyond noted, having been watching on his computer. Not as good as himself, thankfully. That would be disturbing.

"_...However, what you're doing right now is evil."_

A sinister smile spread across the real detective's face at the provocations.

_Well, Kira? Do you have any objections?_

Mentally, he counted down. How long would it take for something to happen? The pale body was practically _trembling_ with anticipation.

_Do it... Kill him._

Right on queue...

There was the sound of mangled groans as Lind L. Tailor grasped his hand to his chest, his eyes bulging out of his face from the pain throbbing through his body. His head ducked back a few centimetres before slamming forwards onto his desk. His body was dragged away, head held low as if ashamed by being defeated.

Hopefully the smile would not be heard through the voice changer, for Beyond found himself unable to contain it even slightly. He changed the image on the screens that hundreds viewed to his Gothic letter L, and flicked on the microphone.

"I had to test this just in case, but I... I never thought it would actually happen! Kira... It seems you can kill people without having to be there in person. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't just witnessed it."

This was something else. So he could actually kill from a distance! Incredible...

"Listen to me, Kira. If you did indeed kill Lind L. Tailor, the man that you just saw die on television, I should tell you that he was an inmate whose execution was scheduled for today. That was not me. The police arrested him in absolute secrecy, so you wouldn't have heard of him on TV or through the internet. It appears that not even _you_ have access to information about these types of criminals."

The urge to laugh was welling up in his throat, but... He had to stay calm. He couldn't let himself go so easily. He just had to hold on for a little longer.

"But I assure you, _L is real; I do exist. _Now, try to kill me! What's wrong? Hurry up! Come on, right now, kill me!"

Yes... How much pain would this cause Kira? How much did it hurt to know that he was unable to move? This was only a _taste _of what Beyond could do This was a chance to prove he was a worthy opponent! This was his chance to be even more amazing than the real L Lawliet had been!

"What's the matter? Can't you do it?"

_How does it feel to burn before our game has even begun?_

He was too close to laughing. He had to stay calm.

"Well, Kira. It seems that you can't kill me after all. So there _are_ some people you can't kill. You've given me a useful hint. Let me return the favour. I'll tell you something that I think you'll find interesting. Although this was announced as a world-wide broadcast, the truth is we are only broadcasting in the Kanto region of Japan. I had planned to broadcast this message around the world until I found you, but it looks like that won't be necessary. I now know where you are."

He was so close to being done, but he couldn't stop shaking... When was the last time he had felt so ridiculously _alive_?

"The police treated your first killing as an unrelated incident, but in actuality the first of your victims was a suspect in Shinjuku. Of all the criminals that have recently died of heart attacks, this one's crime was by far the least serious. Furthermore, his crime was only every reported inside Japan. I used that information to deduce this much: you are in Japan, and your first victim was little more than an experiment, which means that you haven't been killing for very long."

_How does it feel to kill for the first time, Kira? Isn't it good?_

"We decided to broadcast in Kanto first because of its large population, and luckily, we found you. To be completely honest with you, I never expected that things would go this well, but... It won't be too long now before I am able to sentence you to death. Naturally, I'm very interested to know how you're able to commit these murders without being present, but I don't mind waiting a little bit longer. You can answer all of my questions when I catch you. Let's meet again soon, Kira."

_That's it..._

Beyond switched off his microphone and removed the image from the screen.

Finally, the sound that he had been _dying_ to let out was freed from his throat, laughter racking his entire body as he swung back his head, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open wide, the pure, unaltered laughter echoing through the empty room.

He breathed through his mouth as the laughter died away, still in ecstasy, but starting to feel his energy draining.

"Kira... I will hunt you down, wherever you're hiding, and I _will_ eliminate you! I am _justice_!"

And so, the war of killer versus killer was to begin.


	3. Similar

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.**

* * *

_March 2 2004_

_Winchester_

Back in the springtime of the previous years, when the weather had been more suitable for games and venturing past the orphanage grounds, B had, even if he would never admit it without some kind of brutal force, rather enjoyed his time spent wandering around Winchester with his best and only friend. Years ago they were granted permission to roam the outside world freely, but B had been reluctant, declaring that there was nothing outside that could not be obtained while staying inside. A, on the other hand, had not been so stubborn, and was even enthusiastic about walking on his own and going into town without dragging someone else along.

Except he _wasn't_ walking on his own, and he continued to long to drag others along, despite earning independence.

He would grab B by the wrist and lug him outside, refusing to take "no" for an answer, no matter how many times his friend insisted that he "really meant it this time".

They would walk with no destination, letting their feet carry them until their skin was peeling away, and then throw off their shoes and take turns in dragging each other home.

B sighed, leaning against the door of A's bedroom, watching his companion struggle over a desk coated in documents.

More than a year prior, the two boys were considered old enough and mature enough to take on real cases, with real crimes and real human lives, as opposed to fake names like "Mister Six" and "Lady Four". Had their own names not been orientated around the alphabet themselves, "Mister A" and "Mister B" would probably have been the fictional characters with pretend problems like being stabbed from behind on a dark and stormy night.

Of course, these cases were only tiny and insignificant, like petty thefts. But they were not contended with that for long, and demanded to be raised to something more challenging. After all, the real L had been solving mass homicides and preventing wars by the age of nine.

Gradually over the year, A had donated less and less time to going outside. By winter, he had stopped all together.

With nobody to force him to go, so had B.

All A wanted to do was solve cases.

He stopped eating for days, scarcely touching what was left for him, and only drinking the endless cups of caffeine B provided for him on demand. He didn't bother to shower, and claimed to never feel the urge to sleep, despite the heavy rings under his eyes matching that of the detective he strived to become. He became sickeningly thin, his skin turned pale, and his once silky brunet hair clumped together from grease. Regardless, he would spend every hour at his desk, scanning the police records even when his eyes blurred up too much for him to be able to properly read the words. Long after he was firmly denied new cases from the house attendants, he continued to forage for more, bribing them away from other students, or even going as far as to steal vital documents.

He had been promised another week to start calming down and getting back to "normal", or else he was to be hospitalised.

Several days had passed since the announcement, and A had yet to change his habits, indifferent to his constant reminders of how long he had to stop his behaviour.

In any other situation, B would have been reluctant to having to resort to begging, but he was willing to throw away his pride just once, and only for A.

"Please." He said, after closing the door behind him in fear of being overheard. "...Please, just stop."

"Don't you understand?" His response came out in a croak, sounding dry and indisposed, making his friend involuntarily clear his throat. "Tell me, B, with your eyes... How many people are being murdered while you twiddle your thumbs? How many victims are being claimed? You of all people know how to catch a criminal, so why aren't you doing more?"

He rose from his chair, making his way over to where the fellow orphan stood. "You... You're special, B. You have a gift. You can see when people will die, and you're an incredible detective... You're better than L. He's nothing compared to you..." Trembling, A grabbed his friend's shoulders to steady himself, too tired to stand on his own. He buried his face in the black cotton and clung to him with all the strength he had. "They're all going to die, B. They're going to die without us... No, without _you_."

"_Who?_ Who are you trying to save? I don't understand what-"

"Promise me..." His voice came out in pained breaths. "Promise me you'll become L. You're better than a successor; you have to become _him_."

Carefully, they lowered their bodies to the floor, A still attached to B for support. It wasn't a new promise. For years, they sworn to become defeat the detective. They had the power to overcome him. They had the brains and the skills. They were everything he was not, and better at everything he was. What was stopping their rule? Who was preventing them from overtaking the flawed, worthless man who called himself a great detective?

For Beyond, it was just one, small factor.

He longed to feel blood on his own hands.

He was a repugnant, loathsome killer, and he told A such.

"It doesn't matter." He assured. "B is the insane, evil murderer. But he is not the new L. Even if you're own hands are dirtied, you can't let it stop you. You have to... to..."

Rocking the boy in his arms, B hushed him, not himself having the ability to soothe others like the one who was truly in need of it most. He stroked the mess of brunet hair back into its neat and tidy state, not letting a single piece fall astray.

It had taken a mental breakdown for A to truly see what Beyond had known for many years.

* * *

_December 31 2006_

_Japan_

"Bang!"

Five bewildered men stared at the awkward figure who awkwardly stood before them, making them all feel, to say the least, awkward.

"If I were Kira, you would be dead, Mister Soichiro Yagami, Chief of the NPA."

The pale, raven-haired man slouched over, staring at the police officials with wide eyes, though he sounded more tired than anything else. His voice dragged on, as if talking was some huge effort that he struggled to find the energy for. Naturally, the guests all assumed that this appearance of exhaustion was not the norm, and he had simply driven himself into the ground on working on catching Kira. He had, of course, but that didn't mean the black rings under his eyes were a recent development.

"Kira needs a face and a name in order to commit a murder; but I'm sure you've already figured that much out, haven't you? Please do not give out your names so carelessly. Instead, let's value our lives."

Evidently, Matsuda Touta, the youngest of the group of Task Force members, had not figured that out, but he was excused due to not being able to attend the meeting in which the matter was addressed.

Beyond shuffled along to the seating area in the next room and perched himself on the end of his striped armchair like an owl, assuming that owls would sit in the fetal position if they had long enough legs.

Had he not been before, he was now the depiction of awkward.

The Task Force, or what little of it was willing to co-operate with L, placed their cell phones on the checkered table-top before them before turning their attention back to the owl-thing. Beyond, along with anyone else who had half a brain, could read the expressions all over their faces easily enough, and they all had the exact same thought in mind.

_Surely this man cannot be the real L._

Regardless of his history and all the cases solved in it, the NPA had no reason to trust the detective known only as L, and no real proof that Beyond was who he claimed to be. After all, while they had been sticking their necks out and having their lives risked by showing their real names and faces to the public, making them an easy target for Kira, he had been hidden quite happily behind his computer screen, not even revealing so much as his voice. As much as Beyond hated it, they had cornered him into coming out of the shadows for the first time since his encounter with Naomi Miora as Ryuzaki Rue. But, it couldn't be helped. As much as he tried, he could force organizations into doing his bidding, but not into trusting him, nor into enjoying having his help.

...Not that he wanted them to enjoy having him around, that is. They would want to call him in for too many frivolous crimes if they liked him too much. Merely acceding him was enough.

Before he begun talking, Beyond took the time to make tea to help get him through the evening.

For himself. He made tea for himself. He didn't offer any to the rest of the group, and he clearly had no inclination of giving them any should they ask, as he had only one cup available, and sharing it was going too far for the first rendezvous.

Matsuda would have liked some tea.

Matsuda wasn't getting any.

As if to mark his territory, the detective claimed the drink as his own by adding cube after cube of white sugar into the cup, two at a time. After six cubes and still going, the prospect of tea didn't seem so appealing.

"...Excuse me, L?" Asked Matsuda, having given up trying to count the cubes and now avoiding looking down at the beverage.

"Mm, from now on I'm going to have to ask that you stop calling me 'L'. It's 'Ryuzaki' now, just to be safe."

"Uhh, okay, _Ryuzaki.._." Though he hadn't really been expecting anything, somehow, the lack of drama over the alias offended a small part of him. He quickly brushed it aside.

"...If we know that he needs a name and a face to kill, couldn't we cut down on the number of victims by keeping criminals names from the news?"

"If we do that, we'll only be putting the general public at risk."

"...The general public?"

"Why?"

Mentally, Beyond sighed. They really didn't understand at all. He hadn't been anticipating them to, but that didn't change the fact that it was inconvenient to have to explain something that was so over their heads.

"Kira is childish, and he hates losing." He explicated.

"But how do you..." Already the detective was bored.

"Just what do you mean?" Albeit, the Chief had the least annoying questioning tone, but he was still being a pest by not understanding how the mass-murdering killer was thinking so far into the game.

"Well..." Beyond turned his attention back to his tea, who thankfully had not been asking him something so blatantly clear. "I am also childish and I hate to lose. That's how I know."

"Ryuzaki, would you mind being a little more specific for us?"

He held back a groan. "Early on in the investigation I tried to provoke Kira with that broadcast. Up until then, we thought that Kira would only go after criminals, but as we all witnessed, he didn't hesitate to kill my stand-in. Also, as soon as I said we knew he was in the Kanto region, in defiance he made sure his next victims came from within Japan, as if to say _'What're you going to do about it?'_." He paused to sip his tea, which wasn't nearly as sugar-based as usual; he wasn't in the mood or going all out on it. "He's met each of my challenges head on, and he's never missed an opportunity to return the favour. Now, what do you think would happen if we tried to use media restrictions to hide criminals from someone like that?"

They tried so hard, but they really couldn't figure it out by themselves, like a bunch of children trying to impress, but not really being sure of how to go about it. Clearly, he was going to have to lead them the whole way from now on.

"_'If you choose to withhold the names of your worst criminals, I'll kill petty criminals or the innocent. I'm holding the whole world hostage, so who's it going to be? I'm not the evil one here, but all those who oppose me by hiding criminals; you are truly evil.'_... That's exactly how Kira thinks. In any case, let's look at another way we can use the media to draw him out." That way of thinking almost sounded familiar. Beyond had a wonderful feeling of deja vu.

Aiziwa Shuichi leaned further forward in his chair. "But how?"

"How about something like this... _'Death of FBI agents infuriates the U.S. Latest killings anger the International Policing Community. Nations agree to send fifteen hundred investigators to Japan.'_ For Kira, this will be way beyond what he faced with the FBI. He'll see everyone as a potential threat. Psychologically, he'll start to feel cornered, and that will cause him to take some kind of drastic action..."

"...That's... That's interesting!" Piped in Ukita Hirokazu.

"So he'll think there are fifteen hundred, when there are really only seven of us. And since none of these investigators exist, Kira won't be able to kill them." It took far too much will power to prevent the detective from slow clapping. He was feeling cynical, he couldn't help it.

"It just might work!"

"Well, before we celebrate, I'll tell you the rest of my thoughts on the Kira case."

They actually nodded in union, eager to hear his thoughts.

Kira was a single person, but played himself well enough to seem like multiple persons working together, much like Beyond as L . He was too coordinated for an entire organization. That would be too disorganized for his style.

Furthermore, he had access to all the police files, so he was either an excellent computer hacker, or most likely was some how connected directly to the Task Force.

All he needed to kill was a name and a face, and using them, he could control his victims to some extent, both in time of death and in actions before dying.

Those were the intelligible basics.

On the fourteenth of December, twelve FBI agents arrived in Japan. However, by the twenty-seventh, all of their lifespans had been cut short, as they had all died of heart attacks.

Starting with the nineteenth, Kira begun experimenting with his victims' actions before their death, using prison inmates as his personal lab rats. He needed to test how far he could manipulate his victims before he could use that for his advantage on the FBI investigators. That meant that in only five days, Kira had become aware of the FBI's presence in Japan. He had no way of obtaining any of their names or faces, especially since he shouldn't have known that they were even working on the case, so somehow he had to obtain at least one name and face, controlling that single victim in order to obtain the other eleven names.

From December nineteenth to December twenty-seventh, at least twenty three individuals were killed; however, they were not the usual targets, as they had all been ex-convicts or mere suspects in ongoing cases, so technically they had been innocent. In retrospect, only a few of these victims needed to be manipulated, but the others acted as decoys, concealing the victims that actually had a purpose. It was similar to using a locked room to make a suicide look like a murder, in a sense; with all of them acting together, it made deciphering the real victims used impossible, or at least highly difficult.

He had waited eight days after his tests results came back so that the FBI agents could disperse and start following other victims, again to dissimulate himself further. But the experiments of controlling his victims had begun on the nineteenth, so Kira must have been aware of the FBI inspectors by this point.

So, Kira was one of the people being followed from the fourteenth to the nineteenth of December.

That narrowed things down.

Beyond bit back another attack of laughter. Containing himself was going to be a problem around so many people, but that hardly mattered.

_This has been worth the wait._

* * *

_January 8 2007_

_Japan_

In all honesty, Beyond could not bring himself to say that he was entirely unaffected by Naomi Misora's death. In truth, he would not have objected to seeing her once more before her mysterious disappearance. Her name and numbers were missing from the picture of her face, so she was undoubtedly dead, and since her lifespan's original end wasn't until she was in her sixties, she had been murdered.

There was no doubt in Beyond's mind that Kira had beaten him to their farewell. But for him to suddenly kill her... She could have found some kind of lead that Kira had picked up on. If that were true, it was probably related to her fiancé and the people he had been tailing.

In that case, it wouldn't hurt to focus on who Ray Penber was following from the fourteenth to the nineteenth...

Even if her death, Naomi had been a marvellous asset.

Had he been able to meet with her one last time, Beyond would have liked to have gloated over how far he had come.

* * *

_January 9 2007_

_Japan_

The first time Beyond Birthday, the World's Greatest Detective (and Criminal) had seen Light Yagami's face, he had dropped his tea. Literally, not metaphorically. At the time, he was perched over his seat as usual, knees just under his chin as he leaned over his legs, one hand holding the china cup's handle. Thankfully while not concurrently drinking said tea, he had stretched over to the pile of papers and reports before him, and picked up a handful. He had flicked through them with little interest, scanning over the details, specifically the pictures of potential suspects added. Name after name, dates after dates, they held no noteworthy aspects.

Until, of course, he came to him.

_Light Yagami._

The culprit guilty of losing Beyond half a cup of lukewarm tea.

The cup itself had not broken, having been dropped onto a previously clean carpet from only a short distance, but it had sent the liquid across the floor nevertheless.

The detective grasped the picture in both hands, thrusting it towards his own face like he didn't know what the object was, holding it firmly to prevent it from escaping. Beyond stared at the face of the teenager, his striking eyes, his flawlessly neat hair, his calm exterior. It was impossible, but he could have sworn the boy inside the picture scoffed at the attention he was receiving.

There were two things the detective instantly picked up on in Light's countenance.

The first was something he was not willing to admit immediately, instead trying to convince himself that he had just imagined it. It was a preposterous notion, and he must have been severely lacking in sleep to have initially considered it.

So, the latter.

Really, how the _thought that was never again to be mentioned_ had been the more immediately obvious to Beyond was abstruse.

He had no numbers above his head to accompany his name.

He had no lifespan, or at least his lifespan wasn't visible. His name swirly firmly above his head, so he was decidedly still alive.

_That's... different._

The only other person Beyond had ever seen to have a name but no lifespan was _himself_.

Needless to say, Light had become something of a fascination to the detective since their one-sided meeting, several days before. By the ninth of January, he had left the hotel with its freshly stained carpet, leaving a chair over the patch of discoloured flooring in hopes of it not being noticed.

Perhaps taking this _fascination_ to a new level, Beyond had begun watching the boy.

Watching him do _everything_.

Surveillance cameras had been fitted in the Yagami household in every single room, leaving not a single blind spot. Convincing the Chief had been easier than anticipated, and he was all for the idea if it meant his family was cleared of suspicion.

Unfortunately for him, his son was Kira, and it was unlikely that he was going to declared innocent any time soon.

At the earliest parts of the case, the killings would coincide with the spare time of an average student.

A _high school_ student like _Light._

Furthermore, the teenager was considered one of Japan's "best and brightest", so it wasn't like he was lacking the intelligence required to be the killer.

Plus, with his missing lifespan...

There was always another option; it wasn't impossible that Light wasn't Kira, and was in fact just a poor, unfortunate soul just like Beyond, who had somehow been born with the eyes of a Death God without giving any consent to it whatsoever.

_...Just like me, huh?_

That could be the alternative option. There may not have been enough evidence to convict Light, but there was enough to make him a prime suspect in the investigation.

Beyond and Soichiro watched the screens before them, showing the ingenious boy coming home to the empty household.

The detective hadn't realised how tightly he had been clenching his knees until his fingers started to sting.

That nagging thought from when he first saw the photograph crept back into his mind, but it was different than before.

Ridiculous. _They_ were completely different.

Heights, facial structures, eye colour, nationalities... There was no similarities at all. Light didn't even have that gentle, soft expression that _he_ always had.

The face that _he_ always masked himself with.

So, of all possible things, why did Light remind Beyond so strongly of his deceased best friend?

* * *

_January 10 2006_

_Japan_

The Chief had decided to go home a few minutes after waking up on the floor.

He hadn't exactly sat down and fallen asleep there as much as he had fallen out of his chair unconsciously for a few minutes, and had been unable to wake up despite Beyond repeatedly calling his name and shaking his shoulder.

Allowing him to drive probably hadn't been the best course of action, but he had firmly insisted on it, and the detective had been distracted by the boy on the screen talking to his sister about her non-existent love life at the time.

He was a sensible man. He'd probably be fine. At the very least, he wasn't going to die of a car accident, so it was fine.

_Light Yagami..._

Having given up on listening to his sister's love confessions to fictional characters from TV shows, he had gone back upstairs, heading for the bathroom.

_Two criminals had died while he should have been completely unaware of their existences, but it had been so forced. An embezzler and a purse-snatcher? Has Kira really resorted to such low-grade criminals?_

Light locked the bathroom door behind him and rummaged around for a set of towels.

_No, it couldn't have been a coincidence that as soon as the cameras were set up, Kira killed the first victims to be shown on the news. Had Light somehow obtained the information of these criminals and purposely made himself look ignorant of their crimes?_

Having found some towels, he placed one next to the shower door and started unbuttoning his shirt.

_He had figured out the announcement of the fifteen hundred investigators coming to Japan was a lie, too. He had no trouble announcing that he had avoided the trap I set up for him._

His shirt fully removed, Light folded it up and placed it beside his towel, turning his attention to the unzipping of his pants.

_...So far, if he really is Kira, he's proving to be the perfect opponent._

Painfully slowly, he removed each item of clothing, finally slipping his underwear from his legs, bending over to place them too on his tidy pile of clothes.

_...But the challenges are only going to get harder from this point on..._

Light pushed open the shower door and made his way inside, backing up against the glass before turning the shower head on, waiting for the water temperature to adjust. He stayed still for a few moments, pressing his body against the door, before making his way into the spray, arching his back slightly as the drops of water ran down his bare chest.

_...Sooner or later, he... he'll..._

A small, satisfied moan escaped his lips as he smiled at the pleasant feeling of warm water soaking his body, and he ran a hand over his skin. His shoulders, his chest, his stomach, he made his way down his torso, his fingers heading towards his thighs.

_...Slip up._


	4. Stalker

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.**

* * *

_June 25 1993_

_Winchester_

"I'm a bad person, A."

"Oh my God..."

"Didn't I tell you that?"

"You can't be serious..."

"A very, _very_ bad person."

"Jesus Christ, B, what have you done?"

"Does that scare you? Does _this_ scare you?"

"...Why? Why did you _do_ this?"

B tilted his head, looking all around the scene before the two boys, noting all the different shades of red from the sprayed blood and the patterns it made, the differences between the drips and splatters, the thin coatings to the frothing pools. It had only been an experiment, testing out the new weapon of a wooden bat with a long nail driven straight through it, and what effect could be achieved with it. He always had been a curious child.

The animal had been an escaped lamb, judging by the torn tufts of wool and the size. Then again, the carcass was so mangled that it was difficult to tell much more than its species. Even with so little blood in the creature, B had been sure not to waste any.

Rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand, he turned his attention back to the orphan who insisted on attempting to befriend him. A had turned quite pale, clearly fighting a deep urge to vomit, or faint, or _something_.

In all honesty, the child hadn't counted on being found in his moment of weakness; but if someone was going to find him, A was the right person to do it. He was the least likely to tell anyone, even if it meant threatening him first. Judging by the horror discerned in his facial expression, it would be easy to scare him into keeping silent.

Holding his dirty hands up to manifest no ill intent, B carefully made his way over, not particularly wanting to have an unconscious body on his hands when he was so sticky.

"No! Don't touch me!"

He scarcely flinched in response, paused, and continued trying to reach the boy. "Don't worry; I'm not going to hurt you... _probably_."

With adrenaline coursing through his body, A quickly made his decision between fighting and fleeing, scrambling to his feet and sprinting away from the scene as fast as his legs would allow.

B really had no enthusiasm for friendship. Maybe seeing him at his worst was enough to get that message through to the irritating little adolescent.

* * *

_January 12 2007_

_Japan_

Beyond had learned a lot throughout the several days of observing the Yagami household.

He had learned Sayu was mad at her "back-stabbing" friend.

He learned that Sachiko was more than halfway through a quilt she was sewing.

He learned that, on his entire body, Light had nineteen freckles, and he had memorised the location of every last one.

However, in regards to the Kira case, he had learned nothing of any value at all. Unless he could somehow prove Light was murdering using the freckle by his right nipple, then his efforts had been fruitless. It was time to remove the cameras.

Even with Kira still killing criminals that Light should have had no knowledge of, Beyond was unconvinced. He had only been watching him while he was home, for starters. He could easily have memorised the names and faces of his future victims and killed them when he was away.

There was something about the teenager that didn't fit right. He was hiding something. He was lying about something.

Beyond bit the end of his spoon, looming over as many pictures of his new suspect as he could cover his table with. Several more had slipped over the edge and gracefully fluttered to the floor without a sound.

_Even his photographs are immaculate._

The closest one at hand was taken moments after winning a tennis match and being presented with his award, just one of the many that he had earned in his young life.

The detective picked it up, tuning it around a few times, almost expecting there to be a message of some sort from the killer himself written on the back. There was nothing, of course. Just the smiling boy in the picture, holding his trophy as his side, the moisture on his skin glistening against the light as he bit back his exhaustion, probably doing all he could to stop from panting in front of an audience...

_...Right now, the important thing is finding out how Kira kills. The rest will follow easily enough. I just need to see how it happens... It would be even more beneficial if he could show me how he kills._

The name swirled around on the paper, disconsolate without their concomitant numbers.

_He photographs so beautifully..._

* * *

_June 29 1993_

_Winchester_

It took a lot to disturb Beyond Birthday, but for the first time, he felt at his limit. He could skin an animal with a smile on his face, but being constantly followed by that _thing_ was too much even for himself. His stalker had been making himself obvious, several hundred yards behind wherever he went, always finding him no matter what shadow he lurked in.

B believed it to be disquiet at first, and that he was trying to get him while he was alone to say something about what had happened days before with the sheep. However, even after confronting him to ask him what he was bugging him for, A followed like a shy little puppy would a new master.

"Do you want to know what I'd do to you if you were an actual puppy?" It was half-threat half-joke, but it would put off anyone who wasn't the strange, obsessive thing.

A shrugged. "What kind of puppy?"

"...I don't know, whatever you qualify as 'cute'."

"Would a Labrador work?"

"Fine, whatever. Just _stop_ following me." He spun on his heels to leave, but his skin crawled as that same beleaguering voice continued.

"Want some jam?" A asked, indicating to the stairway with his thumb. "Wammy brought some. It's really good."

He let out a long, exasperated groan in reply, refraining from beating his head against the wall.

B did not enjoy making friends.

* * *

_April 5 2007_

_Japan_

"Hey, Light-kun. Uh, nice meeting you."

"No, the pleasure was mine."

_Their bodies writhe in front of your eyes inside your mind, but you only laugh. You laugh, and laugh, and laugh at their pitiful demise, the sensation of life been stolen from them by your own hand. Such massacres, and you never even touch their flesh. Murder from afar, but all the same, the rush still burns through you. You try to ignore the feeling of ecstasy as they clutch their chests in pain; but even you can't cloak everything. Your eyes tell it, as much as you wish they wouldn't. They call out for it, needing your drug more and more. Good or evil, innocent or criminal, it's just the medium you use to fuel your longings. You satisfy your hunger on the corrupt, and in return it further progresses you towards your ideal world._

_In truthfulness, you aren't so different from those who kill for their own pleasure. Righteous or not, you were just fortunate to have such a strong sense of "justice". Without it, what would stop you from cutting up whoever you pleased, regardless of who they were and what they did?_

_I almost envy you, who can kill so freely._

_You've never had to limit yourself. You never had to give up the drug before you had even fully experienced its effects. You haven't had to split yourself into two, and discard the longing with the true side of you. You wear a mask every waking moment, but there is still something underneath to be masked._

_How utterly disgusting we both are._

"...Ryuga? Is something wrong?"

Beyond blinked himself back to reality, suddenly aware of his surroundings once more.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I got lost in your eyes... Goodbye."

Light stuttered, making a noise of equal surprise, confusion, and embarrassment, staring at the awkward man shuffling back to his car. Thankfully, nobody else had heard them, or he might seriously have called the nearest mental institute to make sure that no homosexual residents had escaped.

The black car drove away from the muttering students, all curious to know how a guy like _that_ got into To-Oh University. Judging by his expensive-looking vehicle, he was probably rich enough to bribe his way to the top of the class or something.

Beyond, under the alias of Hideki Ryuga, the highly famous pop-idol, had succeeded in meeting his suspect while introducing himself as L, and with this meeting he was only more certain that Light Yagami was Kira. The first time they had made eye contact in the exam hall, Light hadn't even attempted to look above the detective's head, so there was little chance of him not being Kira but having the eyes instead like Beyond had questioned. Still, it was only intuition, and he temporarily had no proof.

With the alias of a famous man like Ryuga, it would make even attempting to kill him difficult, since there was a high chance that Kira would accidentally get the real pop-idol instead. Besides, it was obviously a fake name, and Light didn't need any special Death God eyes to know that. If he did somehow obtain his real name, it wouldn't matter since he couldn't kill him without practically announcing that he was guilty.

Simultaneously, approaching Light gave Beyond the opportunity to get close to him. If it was somehow possible to earn his trust, then he could find out what method was used to kill. But that had a low chance of happening; Kira would never be so stupid to reveal his master trick to anyone. It was even unlikely that he would slip up somewhere at all, but that was a more realistic thing to be aiming for on Beyond's part.

* * *

_April 7 2007_

_Japan_

It had been two days since Beyond had introduced himself as L to Light. Since then, he was sure to confront him at every convenient moment. Either the teenager was accustomed to being constantly followed by people who were desperate to get his attention, or he really didn't mind the potential psychopathic stalker as company.

_Probably the former. He's quite popular._

More than a handful of students had been staring at them together, and several girls didn't even try to hide their dirty looks at Light's new human accessory.

"I have to admit, I was surprised, Ryuga." Said the brunet while bending over his bag, causing several excited squeals from people watching outside the games' court, not all of them female. "I never thought you'd ask me to play tennis as a way to get to know each other."

"Is it a problem for you?"

"Not at all. But when you first invited me to play, did you know how good I was?"

_So much for being modest._

"Yes; I'll be fine though. It's been a while, but at one time I was actually the British Junior Champion." It was true; back at Wammy's, the children were forced into playing certain games or sports. Tennis had been one of them, and since that required two plays, it meant competition. B, not willing to lose even at something he wasn't interested in, had spent a short amount of time dedicating himself into winning. Quickly after he was declared the best, he grew bored and abandoned it.

"Ryuga, were you raised in the UK?"

"I lived in England for about five years when I was younger, but save your breath; nothing in that story would reveal L's true identity, I promise you." It was best that he didn't know the truth. Confessing to living in England until only a few years before wasn't a smart move. Giving him a brief life story of growing up there would only lead to unnecessary problems. Whether it be honest interest or wanting leverage, Beyond would only give him the vaguest facts possible.

_But, first..._

After bouncing off the ground several times, the tennis ball suddenly came crashing into the fence behind Light, barely missing the Shinigami who had been following the younger human. Neither of them had seen it moving until it was before them.

"Fifteen love." Beyond annunciated, biting back a smile. He wasn't as rusty as he had feared himself to be.

* * *

_April 7 2007_

_Japan_

"Just as I expected, you beat me." For one of the first times in his life, he had forced himself to lose. He did not like it. He did not like it at all. Whether it be intentional or not, his mouth felt bitter, and the idea that Light would now bask in the glory of victory sickened him. However, he had no other choice.

"It's been a while since I had to play that hard!" Light was acting indifferent to his win. On the positive side, it had been interesting to see him in action. His determination was, in its own way _cute. _"I'm feeling kind of thirsty. Plus, there's something I wanted to ask you about. You wanna go somewhere for a drink?"

Had it been a few hours later in the day, the detective genuinely would have thought him to be referring to alcohol.

_Does he ever drink alcohol? Technically he isn't of age for it, but... No, he isn't the kind of person to even consider things like that._

"You humoured me with the tennis match. The least I can do is answer some of your questions. But, before this conversation goes any further, there's something I must tell you."

The teenager turned his head to make full eye-contact with the slouching creature walking beside him. "What's that?"

"I suspect that you, Light Yagami, are in fact _Kira_... Now, if you want to ask me something, then please go ahead."

Though it should have only been a one percent chance, the problem with his missing numbers greatly increased that probability to Beyond, but telling anyone else about his eyes would be suicide. For everyone other than himself, it was one percent and intuition, nothing more.

Instead of using this suspicion to keep Light away from the Kira investigation, he was going to use it to drag him in. Working together would allow him to keep a closer watch on him. Besides, it would be better to have some more intellect in the group of investigators.

_It's a double edged knife. The closer I get to him, the closer he gets to me... But that's only going to make things more interesting._

* * *

_April 7 2007_

_Japan_

Soichiro Yagami had a heart attack.

Within twenty minutes of receiving the unfortunate news, the two geniuses were at the side of his hospital bed, their coffees abandoned and forgotten. They had, until they each received a phone call detailing the incident, been sitting in a café and testing Light's deductive skills. He actually had done far better than Beyond anticipated, but doing so had raised the chance of him being Kira to seven percent, not including the extra percent added by his missing lifespan. Quite a significant jump for a first test.

_If Light is Kira and didn't try to kill his father, but his father had a heart attack anyway... No, whether he's Kira or not, he would definitely feel panic and concern over Yagami-san, and since he masks his emotions constantly, there's hardly any difference between the reaction of an innocent Light and the reaction of a guilty Light._

Understandably, the idea that a heart attack could be induced by stressed and _wasn't_ fatal had caught Soichiro completely by surprise. He hadn't considered that working himself into sickness was a thing to be worried over. But it had not been Kira's move to start killing of the Task Force just yet, even if it was unclear how long that would remain to be so.

"To be honest, I thought it was Kira when I first collapsed." He confessed. "But I'll be all right. It seems I've been pushing myself a bit too hard lately."

Generally, heart attacks weren't something a person can walk off, but Beyond refrained from saying such, not wanting to make the man feel any worse than he already did. Instead, he simply agreed with him. "Indeed. It must have added to your stress, knowing that Light is a suspect in this investigation."

An exclamation mark went off above the teenager's head in the detective's imagination. "You actually told my father that?"

"Yes. In fact, I've told him everything." He had even been exposed to his son viewing adult magazines. "It's true, he even knows that I am L."

This was exactly what Beyond needed. His own father's confirmation would dismiss any doubts Light had before about _"Hideki Ryuga"_ being L. This would be all he needed to convince his suspect that he was more than just a homosexual psychopathic stalker.

_...Which I certainly am not._

"That's correct. This man is L. To protect his identity, we on the Task Force refer to him as _'Ryuzaki', _but make no mistake. It's him." His voice dragged on with each word, softening at certain parts of his sentences from the debility. "So, Ryuzaki, now that you've had the chance to talk to my son, is he cleared as a suspect?"

"When I say I suspect him, you should know it's very minor. We've gone over this, but I'll explain it again. Not long ago, Kira killed twelve FBI agents who'd come to Japan to assist us. They were instructed to follow all the people connected to the Japanese police. One of these agents, Ray Penber, exhibited unusual behaviour before he died..."

Light leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "I understand; and I was one of the people who Ray Penber was investigating before he died. It only makes sense I would be a suspect... No, to be more precise, there's no-one else you _could_ suspect."

"I find Light-kun's deductive powers quite impressive. He's always quick and to the point." In all fairness, the detective couldn't deny that the boy really was impressive. How rare it was for him to think that of other human beings.

"Ryuga, I'd like to help with the investigation. My father has erased any doubts I might have had regarding your true identity. Also, I'd like nothing more than to catch Kira, so I can prove once and for all that I'm not him."

His father turned his head to his beloved son, struggling to get out his words more than before, clearly running out of energy with each passing minute. "No, Light. This is a time in your life when you should be studying to becoming a police officer. It won't be too late to join us once you are done."

"Come on, Dad, what are you talking about? Who knows how many years that will take? Besides, don't you remember my promise? That if something ever happened to you, I would find Kira and make sure he gets executed."

From beside them, Beyond was giving his all to stay silent, not wanting to disturb the scene. It wasn't an act, it felt far too sincere. That was the problem. It was like that had fallen out of an awful soap opera, and it made him feel sick.

"Light, listen to me. Kira is pure evil, we can all agree on that. But recently I've started thinking of this whole situation in a different way. What is truly evil is the power to kill people, and any person who has come to possess this kind of power is cursed. No matter how you use it, no true happiness can be obtained like that. Not by killing other people."

Things such as "happiness" and "sadness" had never meant much to Beyond. Why would they? Human emotions did nothing but burden a person. They weighed them down and prevented them from acting in certain ways. They only made life difficult, and for what? Why was it such a terrible thing to discard them and truly be free? Passion was enough to get him this far in his life. It was true, he knew the feeling of indignation, and God help him, he knew _pleasure_, but that only fuelled him. When was the last time he had felt real, genuine anguish?

When A died.

No, when A killed himself. When A killed himself because of that bastard piece of shit, pressuring him into such insanity that he couldn't breath unless he knew he was saving a life right then and there. How ironic that the suicide should result in his friend's mental breakdown that ended the lives of four more human beings. A was not Beyond. He knew the feeling of guilt, and he would have felt it if anyone other than his dear B had been the one to strangle, bludgeon, cut, and burn them all. But for B, A would not have been pained. He sympathised for him; living a life of wanting, wanting, _wanting_, but never being receiving. B was an exception. To A, those B would shamelessly slaughter would be a required sacrifice; in order to clean himself off and become a real detective, he would have to rid himself of the urges. In order to save so many more than L Lawliet ever could, Beyond Birthday would have to throw away what made him human.

It was an aberrant sort of logic, but A, the real A that only B knew, had been an aberrant person.

To think that killing and murder could only be a curse... he questioned the time he had spent as L, all those months since that August twenty-second.

It was more than just being entertained. It was more than just having a desire for the mind games fulfilled.

He was "happier" than he'd ever been.

* * *

_April 18 2007_

_Japan_

He consented.

Light was going to join the Task Force as soon as his father was recovered.

Since then, Beyond had been feeling additionally peculiar about the whole situation. It was far from nervousness; on the contrary, he could even confess to _longing_ to have the teenager join them. Light was intelligent and had no problems putting the detective in his place, or at least believing that he could. He wouldn't hold back, and he didn't admit defeat without a fight. Compared to the usual company, he was a pleasure to be with.

Beyond almost missed him when he wasn't nearby. Almost.

The door clicked shut from across the room as Watari hurried himself into the hotel suite, the temporary Kira Investigation Headquarters. "Ryuzaki, something seems to be happening on Sakura TV_._"

As he reached for the remote for the television, the detective wondered if he would feel any sorrow once the Kira case was closed and the killer was facing judgement of his own.

He had long since become accustomed to being incapable of feeling any form of sentimentality at all.


	5. Sacrifice

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.**

* * *

_December 11 2006_

_Winchester_

"You can do it! We know you can!"

"_I appreciate your support."_

"I bet you even have a suspect by now, right?"

"_That's not information I can disclose."_

The room was instantly in uproar from multiple groans and objections, various children pleading for the facts with promises of keeping what they knew a secret they would carry to their graves. However, the electronically altered voice remained firm, refusing to give anything away that wasn't already accessible to the orphans of Wammy's House. Those too young to fully appreciate the severity of Kira's crimes had been tucked into bed and were contently sleeping, while those old enough to want to investigate for themselves were gathered around the laptop screen displaying the infamous letter _L_.

Their life goal. The very title they dedicated their lives to train for, even if it was only a slim chance.

"Hey, L."

Instantly, the room fell silent. None of the occupants had expected him to do more than stand there, leaning against the wall and observe as he always did. They hushed themselves, not wanting to interrupt for fear of the consequences that would inevitably come if they were to embarrass the blond.

"Promise me something." Mello said, indifferent to how much power his voice alone held.

"_What is it?"_

He shifted slightly, rolling his shoulders back while keeping his arms folded over his chest. "Catch Kira. Don't make us do all your work because you've let yourself get killed."

Only those with the strongest hearing heard the small noise from inside the speakers, the sound of the detective smiling.

"_I promise."_

Nobody saw the look of repulsion on the face of the boy in his white pajamas, his knee covering his mouth from view.

* * *

_December 12 2006_

_Winchester_

"You have three minutes before Mello notices I'm gone."

Near, as customary, was sitting curled up on the floor, a large jigsaw puzzle placed before him. The pieces were piled up beside him in a lump, but he somehow fished out the next piece needed to form a vertical line of the puzzle's picture without pausing to search.

"That's more than enough time." He said, finishing the first line. "I'll keep this short."

Matt glanced up at the clock on the opposite wall, mentally counting down the time before he would be discovered by his best friend and ripped alive for being in the company of his arch rival. Hopefully Near would get the worst of it if he were blamed for forcing the meeting between them.

The albino so much as raised his head. "I believe L is dead."

"...The fuck?"

He continued to click his jigsaw pieces into place. "It's just as I said. L is most likely dead."

"Great, so now we all have the ability to talk to ghosts. Thanks for the insight, Near."

"Matt."

"We spoke to him yesterday. I'm sure he hasn't choked to death on strawberry shortcake in under a day."

"Allow me to explain..."

"I'm going back to Mello before he finds me here." He reached for the door handle, but was interrupted by the usually soft voice turning sharp, catching him before he could exit.

"On August twenty-first 2005, L contacted me. He told me that if he did not respond by August twenty-fourth to assume that he was dead. I never received any messages following that one. It was sent by his private line to me alone. It's impossible that it was a fake."

"...What?"

"The message was not sent to you, Mello, nor anyone in Whammy's House because he feared anyone else would become too emotional over the outcome. In other words, he selected me because he didn't think I would be upset by his death." Though Near didn't show any signs of it, there was a hint of pain lost in his words that he didn't fully recognize. His lack of empathy was what had kept him close to the man who meant everything to him, and that cold heartedness resulted in trusting his successor enough to tell him that he was probably going to die. "He foresaw something that he could not prevent."

"2005? We saw him in person last May and he stayed for two whole days."

"I'm fully aware of that, and that only raised my suspicion. In the past, he always treated me with some approbation; but in May, he ignored me as much as he could, even avoided me. I made multiple attempts at inquiring why he never sent a message confirming his survival on August twenty-fourth, but he dismissed them all. It was like he didn't know what I was talking about, but trying to act like he did."

The red-haired boy snorted a small laugh, the whites of his teeth showing. "So you're bitchy because he wasn't in the mood for playing with you. He was probably just too busy to send the message, or maybe he wasn't being serious about it."

"Do you honestly believe that L wouldn't take something like that seriously?"

"...You're being paranoid. L is fine. He was just in a bad mood around you in May and thought you were being annoying. Watari is with him, so it's not like anyone is going to replace him without it being pretty obvious." Without waiting for a response, Matt pushed opened the door and left to find Mello. He and Near had never been the closest pair, simply settling for tolerating each others' existence. The whole story could have been some weird joke, or a plan to manipulate him into doing something. With no evidence, there was no reason to believe any of it.

L was perfectly fine.

* * *

_December 17 2006_

_Winchester_

"How much do you remember about B?"

Anyone other than the game-addicted genius probably would have jumped several feet in the air at seeing a powder white ghost behind themselves in what they had believed to be an empty section of the library. Mello had extra classes that he, surprisingly, did not want to skip out on, which lead to Matt's boredom, which lead to his desire to sit somewhere on his own and quietly fume over a last boss battle on a game he had bought two days prior. At least in a room full of books he could _pretend_ to be studying. The staff had started to give up on dragging him back to classes he had no intention of attending, but they had to put up the pretence of caring about his education, which already put their own to shame.

"Why?" He asked, focusing his eyes on his health bar, forgetting about keeping his eyes from drying out in an unblinking, zombie-like state.

"August twenty-second 2005 was the final death of the Wara Ningyo Murders. I don't find it coincidental that I was contacted the day before."

Matt sighed, but refrained from pausing his game for dedicated conversation. It was easier to stare at a screen than stare at someone's face, anyway. "Are you still talking about that?"

"I have every intention of following it through until I get a definitive answer to why the message confirming L's survival was not sent." Near shuffled over to the corner of the library, deciding to settle himself where he had intended instead of finding a new location to think. He much preferred being on his own, but for once he actually wanted to hear another person's views on what he already knew. However, the boy who was third in line for being the new L was stubborn. He wasn't going to accept what he was being told without proof. Proof that Near did not have. The computer the message was sent to was destroyed by August twenty-fifth as protocol of being contacted by the World's Greatest Detective, and with it the original message was long gone. Despite that, Near did not doubt its existence for a second. Its disappearance was as abrupt as its arrival, but it had unquestionably been there.

There was a tapping noise from the buttons on the hand-held gaming device being bashed. "If it happened in 2005, why didn't you say something then?"

"Even if my word alone was enough to be undeniable proof of L's death, there was nothing I could do without knowing at least his exact location. Causing distress would have achieved nothing."

"So? Why is now any different?"

Near had placed a set of finger puppets over his first fingers, one on each hand, coiling and uncoiling said fingers to make them move and interact with each other. The toy on the left was a white puppet with a black mop of "hair" and pursed lips, a most ugly toy to anyone who wasn't himself. The right was a limbless, furry, inky wolf. The features were delicate and well crafted, even showing a set of plastic white teeth poking out from the mouth. They were total opposites in terms of quality.

_If I tell him that now, he'll just think I'm lying again... It's better if I start from the beginning._

"First, I'll tell you my thoughts on the Wara Ningyo Murders..."

"The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases."

"..."

"The name. It's the '_Los Angeles BB Murder Cases'_. The_ 'Wara Ningyo Murders'_ was just another crappy name the media made up. It makes it sound like a kids TV show, not a homicide."

He could have smirked, but Matt wasn't going to look away from his game when he was so close to beating the final boss.

"Very well. Pinned to the walls of the victims' apartments was a straw voodoo doll. On the first murder, there were four dolls. On the second murder, there were three dolls. On the third murder, there were two dolls. Which means that the fourth murder, the last one, would have one doll."

The red-haired boy refrained from saying something cynical. He had been over this a thousand times before when it was actually happening.

Without interruption, Near continued. "Each of the doors were locked from the inside, but without the use of a key. Mello's personal experiment showed that the way this was done was by using two nails and some thread as a pulley system to lock the door. This meant the fourth door had to be locked manually."

"I know all of this. The first three were to cover up the fourth, making the last death look like a murder when it was really a suicide. We've covered it before."

"Which leads to my next point. The fourth murder had to be a suicide. The victim was to be the murderer, obviously B himself."

"No shit."

"But B wasn't the one who died. L was."

Matt was the third in line for becoming the World's Greatest detective for a reason. He was not placed in the position by default, nor due to the fourth and following lacking the required intelligence or mentality. He had very much earned his position, and everyone was aware of such. Many dared to believe he could be on par with Mello if he were more dedicated. Matt simply found the place in the roster he was comfortable in, and that just happened to be right after his best friend. He did not care for overexerting himself. Video games were more appealing than mind games.

Regardless, he had acuity, and he quickly learned feigning ignorance was an easy way of getting information. For example, one is more likely to make a mistake in front of the ignorant without worrying over it.

_It's entirely plausible that Matt instantly believed me about the message._

If that were the case, he quickly would have realised who the ignited body had once been.

But he did not want to agree willingly. He wanted to be convinced. He wanted to be shown the facts. He was playing coy, and they both knew it.

"...You think L was the murderer?" He questioned.

The albino boy stayed calm as ever, the knowledge that the ignorance was aforethought making it more amusing than frustrating to deal with.

"No. L took B's place as the last death. Somehow, B either locked the door and escaped, or he managed to persuade L into committing suicide."

"You say _'persuade into committing suicide'_ like it's easy."

He ignored that comment, turning his attention back to his finger puppets, waving their heads from side to side in union.

_B._

The second in line of the first generation. Once A died, he was denied the position as first in line due to his controvertible sanity. He had strived to the top, lost the one thing that held him up, and then been told he was too much of a risk and essentially thrown to the bottom of the pile.

_That was the pitiful front he put up for everyone to see._

He was nothing to feel sorry for. Beyond was a monster. He was a psychopath. A wolf in sheep's clothing, acting like one of the group until they let their guard down and he could strike. A's suffering was his perfect excuse to torment L. He spoke words of becoming the great detective, but in reality, all he wanted was to beat him for his own sick pleasure. He got off to the idea of standing on the detective's lifeless body and spitting on him.

_It seems he succeeded..._

No. Not for long. His victory would be short lived. His downfall would be swift, and it would be ten times as painful as the fall of the real L. Death was too sweet for such a man, if he could be called a man at all.

_True_ justice would prevail.

_Thwap._

Near blinked, looking down at the book detailing different species of fungi that had successfully been sent flying directly into his face. It was hardback.

Evidently, Mello had finished his classes.

* * *

_December 31 2006_

_Winchester_

Of course, even though he eventually would for the sake of hearing it, Matt did not need to ask why the information had been distributed to him alone. That much he knew. He was best friends to the second in line, and third himself. He was a medium. Mello would tear the place down if Near told him his thoughts directly, so he was using a human bridge to soften the blow. In other words, Matt was his mailman.

_Heh._

This was all assuming what he said was true, though. Matt was relying on the albino's seriousness when it came to his idol. He wouldn't talk about L being dead unless he was one hundred percent sincere, and he wouldn't say anything at all if he questioned the existence of the message even slightly.

_But it would be stupid to throw myself into his hands just because he says so. It's fine to take anything he says with a lump of salt._

_Still, for arguments sake, if what he said is true..._

_B was definitely fucked up in the head enough to do something like that, and he was careful enough to pull through. Even though they were naturally similar, he wasn't the exact clone down to every hair of L, so he must have gone through surgery if he wanted to fool Wammy..._

_But wouldn't Wammy be able to tell the difference? He did raise L since he was a little kid... Usually you can tell something like that by looking into a person's eyes, right?_

How much time had Wammy spent staring into the detective's eyes? Probably not all that much.

_Or, maybe..._

He was missing the point. It wasn't that Wammy couldn't tell that he was a fake; it was that he couldn't do anything about it. He probably figured out what happened immediately, but he had no choice but to allow it... It could have been that Beyond was forcing him into helping, or that he felt that assisting him would let him keep a firm hold on the imposter before he did anything too crazy. Too crazy for _his_ standards, anyway.

Matt considered himself in the Englishman's position; if the one person who meant the most to him in the world, the one person who his life was orientated around, the one person that kept him from jumping out of the window just for the curiosity of what lies past death, was to suddenly be replaced by an exact copy, who looked, acted, and breathed just as the original had, what would he do? Would he really try to harm someone so similar to the original, even if that person was a killer?

He would have to. He wouldn't be the real person he cherished. It didn't matter how much it would pain him to stare back at those astute, bright blue eyes and know that he was going to see them well with tears from the pain he would put him through for daring to touch the original. If _Mello_ were replaced, the impersonator's blood would never be fully scrubbed off the carpet.

But Wammy wasn't Matt; he wasn't as potent as the younger was. He still saw the face of that eight-year-old-boy in L's features. He wanted to be able to pretend things hadn't changed, going as far as deluding himself, convincing himself that ignorance was bliss. It was childish and irresponsible, he knew it was, but he couldn't bring himself to stop.

He didn't want to lose L.

He didn't want to be alone.

Clicking his tongue, the orphan leaned back in his chair. It wasn't good enough to play along with his games. Beyond was dangerous. They couldn't allow him to rule as he pleased. They had to battle this new, fake L, and they had to win. No matter what, they had to defeat him before he did something extreme. More extreme than butchering four innocent people and using their bodies like human puzzles. More extreme replacing his entire self with someone else and stealing their life for his own.

_...I'm over-thinking it. We're wrong about all of this. L could still be alive, and B could still be dead, just like how it's supposed to be. It's all just a huge misunderstanding that we''ll laugh about later._

Matt ran his fingers through his hair and let out a groan in vexation.

_Which is exactly what B would want us to think if it were true._

"What's up?"

He hadn't heard the girl come in, nor had he been aware that she was standing _right behind_ his ear. The children of Wammy's had a habit of sneaking up on people.

"When did you get here?" He asked, managing to keep his voice nonchalant, despite being relatively surprised by her sudden manifestation.

"I was already here when you came in. I said hello, but you obviously didn't hear me." She said, somewhat bitterly.

"...Level eight." He indicated to his gaming device.

"Instant justification." She gave him a half-smile, but it didn't seem to fit her face properly, her eyes remaining emotionless. "You struggling with it?"

Matt scoffed at the thought and opened his mouth to object, but D interrupted him before he could say a word, holding up her hands in defence. "Okay, okay, spare me the lecture." Regardless of him clearly not needing nor wanting assistance, she placed her hands on the table in front of him, looming over to look at the screen's flashing lights and various phrases that she, not knowing what game he was emerged in, did not understand.

Matt did not have many people he considered "friends". In fact, he only had one, and it was not her. That being said, he was less than comfortable with having her invite herself into his personal space, even if it was only curiosity of what had grabbed his attention so intensely that it caused him to omit her existence.

He leaned to the side in an attempt of eschewing her, but she paid no mind to it, only pressing further.

"Let me see." She coerced, holding out a hand while still bending over the fellow orphan.

Begrudgingly he obliged, tentatively handing her the paused game. "You're like a little kid."

She tilted her head to the side, deciphering the objective of the level. "...Oh! It's just a regular shooter, right? I bet I can do this..." Without waiting for permission, D rolled up her sleeves and started button smashing, quickly figuring out the basic controls.

Matt would have beaten his head against the table if it made her stop. Better yet, he would have beaten _her_ head against the table. He tried to pry her away by force, but she hissed at him like some sort of feral animal. He feared the loss of a hand would make his gaming life difficult if she bit it off. Disgruntled, he glared at her, waiting for her to either screw up his high score, or get bored and hand the stolen possession back.

"...D?"

"What?" She asked, sounding as petulant as he felt for being disturbed.

"Why do you have numbers on your hand?"

She glimpsed at the back of her hand, decorated in four smudged numbers, written in some kind of black pen. "I like them. A always used to use these numbers as a signature instead of writing the letter 'A' on notes. I want them as a tattoo to remember him by, but Roger won't let me."

"...A used them?"

It was probably just random, but... There was no harm in being inquisitive. After all, he didn't really know much about the suicide victim, and if B really was still alive...

The red haired boy squinted his eyes, trying to focus on the blurry numbers that jolted around from D's finger movements. Obviously she had washed her hands at least once, maybe twice, since applying the pen, as the ink blended together. However, it was obvious they were four individual numbers.

"... Twelve, one, thirteen, two."

"Yeah. It was always those four. He never told me why, but I think he just liked them."

She had piqued his curiosity. Could they be a date? Four instead of three... Maybe the extra number was an hour? Hour, month, day, year? It couldn't be hour, day, month, year, since the third number was a thirteen. But, maybe the fourth number was the hour, and it went backwards instead.

Then again, there was no reason for it to be a date or time. If there had been six numbers, enough for seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, and years, that would have made a more logical sense.

_Four..._

Like the number of victims to die on August 2005.

It wasn't appropriate to ask. D had been mortified by A's death, even going completely mute for several months following it. The orphanage's household actively avoided mentioning the _"S"_ word around her in fear of reverting her back to that constantly lamenting child she had always been. But... She would know, and he wanted her answer. He didn't want other people snooping around, questioning why he was so interested. She would tell the truth without hesitation. Maybe he should have asked the morning his body was found, lying flat out on his back with his neck sliced open, but he had been detached from the whole affair, and it was what felt like a millennium ago, even if it had only been a few years reality.

"D, did he write these numbers on his suicide note?" He asked, mentally preparing for her to begin bawling at the mere thought.

"No." She said, her eyes not leaving the brightly coloured screen in her hands. "He never left a note." Her voice sounded dead, but he still felt a twinge of her affliction.

"...He didn't?"

"You didn't know?"

"We weren't all that close... I didn't really get involved."

She tutted, but refrained from announcing how cowardly she thought of him for doing such. "He used to write those four numbers all over his body like I do; on his hands, on his arms, on his legs... I don't think he ever went without scribbling them somewhere. They were probably still on him when he died, so there's your suicide note. Four numbers that nobody knows the meaning of."

Four mysterious numbers, on the body of a suicide victim who was best friends with a serial killer.

A serial killer who was supposed to be dead.

A dead man who could have stolen the identity of the World's Greatest Detective and survived.

"D, I need my game back. _Now_."

"But I've almost won!"

Matt swiftly pried the game from her hands, ignoring her wines and protests. He jumped up from his seat and practically threw himself out of the room, half sprinting down the hall.

"I'll let you lose some other time, I promise!" He called over his shoulder.

"Yeah, you better." She mumbled, returning to the book she had been reading beforehand in peace.

_Near?_

_No, Mello._

He would tell Near their conclusion, but he couldn't leave Mello in the dark about this. He didn't want to abandon him for anything. He deserved to know at least about the numbers, even if he wasn't going to find out about the message from L just yet. Matt could tell him about that afterwards. Right now, he wanted to hear his opinion on the numbers A had been obsessed with.

Besides, he couldn't tell Near that Mello so much more about the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases than he did. He knew more than just what the press released. L had told him the real story behind the murders.

...Or Beyond had, pretending to be L.

What if that whole story was a lie? What if Beyond had told him what he wanted them to hear, not what actually happened?

_No. I can't start questioning that. I'll only go in circles if I start doubting everything._

Mello. He had to find Mello.

* * *

_December 31 2006_

_Winchester_

"Well, well, well." He folded one leg over another, putting his novel on his lap. "Came crawling back, did you? I knew you would. They always do."

Matt huffed. "You were ruining my concentration."

"I was just testing you to see how you would survive in dire circumstances."

"You tried to put a beetle in my ear."

"You passed the test. Congratulations."

Matt shook his head, preferring to delete the memory of having the ghastly feeling of several tiny legs crawling towards his brain, just because his friend had been somewhat bored. It was not an experience he wished to repeat in any hurry.

"Mells, what do you know about the first A?"

Talking about _him_ was an onerous yet trifling task that he had grown tired of performing. However, for his friend, he forced himself to abide. "You too?" Mello flicked some hair over his ear as he spoke. "Everyone's been talking about him with Kira around. Some psychopath starts killing off criminals, and everyone goes into meltdown, calling it _'A's perfect world'_."

_That's right! He was always talking about Heaven and Hell... Well, I guess he was a Christian and all, but..._

A religious boy's suicide, his best friends serial murders, a message from the detective they both strived to become indicating his own death and unheeded replacement, and a self-proclaimed God who was eradicating all the evil from the world.

If there was some connection...

_No, it feels too forced. Lots of people think that all criminals deserve to die. Even if what happened with B and L is true, that doesn't necessarily mean that Kira is involved with B._

But, if Mello had a dream like that, and Matt somehow obtained the power and the means to do it, then he wouldn't think twice about it. What if B had felt the same way about A? There was the chance that he always had the power to kill from afar, but he refrained from using it until he had what he needed; the power and control that only L could know. By stealing his title, he wasn't just taking on all of his cases, but remembering the guilty for his future plans of killing them.

_That's a little far fetched._

So why couldn't he stop considering it?

_Right, right, on topic. Numbers. I'll worry about the rest after we decode these._

"Did you know about his numbers?" Matt asked, searching for a spare piece of paper and a pen.

"Numbers? Who are you, BB?" Mello smirked, but didn't get much of a response from the back of his friend's head as he rummaged through the mess of objects scattered on the desk. "What numbers?"

"D said he used to really like a certain combination of numbers. I'm curious."

"Why do you care about him all of a sudden?"

Having found some paper, he shrugged, still looking for a pen that hadn't run out of ink. "I thought it was weird with everyone talking about him. I never really knew him, you know? I hardly registered that he even died. I thought, maybe Kira thinks the same way as he did. Then D told me he never left a suicide note, but he was interested in four specific numbers in a certain order, and it caught my attention."

It wasn't really a lie. He _was_ interested in Kira, and they could easily have similar outlooks on "evil". He was just holding back from mentioning Beyond, that was all. It was only temporary. Upsetting Mello over miscalculated circumstances was absurd.

_...B. Numbers..._

The blond leaned on his wrist, watching Matt scrawl out the four numbers on the paper for him. "BB sometimes talked about numbers and lifespans. Maybe it was that? I asked L about it, and he said that BB had the eyes of a Reaper, or something like that. He could see when a person would die by looking at their face. We joked about it; I'm pretty sure L didn't believe any of it." It was something Matt had already considered, seeing as he he had already been told of such ability, real or not.

"That could be it." He passed the paper over to the seated boy, the white sheet adorned with scruffy black handwriting from a leaky pen. "But if they were meaningless, why did he like them so much? If they were his real lifespan, why would he need to show them off?" To remind him of when he was going to die? To prove that he knew his own death date? The very idea that someone could even know how long a person would live for by looking at them was a joke. It sounded like some asinine superpower a child would want. "I think it's a code. He _wanted_ someone to figure out what they meant." Matt conjectured.

12, 1, 13, 2.

12 1 13 2.

"Maybe... Are you sure it's not _one, two, one, one, three, two_?"

"No, it's definitely twelve, one, thirteen, two." The spaces between the numbers on D's hand had been too wide for any mistake, and she didn't correct Matt when he questioned them.

Mello tilted his head at the paper, his brain registering the different shape of each number like they were something he had never encountered before. "Well, obviously, there's a thirteen. If we try relating it to the numbers used during the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases..." He paused, considering it, but then shook his head, strands of silky hair brushing against his face. "If it was twenty-two, one, thirteen, two, then it would make more sense, but twelve..."

"Maybe we're supposed to add the twelve and the one, so it makes thirteen, thirteen, two."

"No, if we used that logic, then we would have to add the thirteen and the two. Fifteen doesn't fit in with the case."

_Right, right._ They had to relate them to the numbers four, nine, thirteen, twenty two, and thirty one for it to be anything similar to the Los Angeles murders.

"Well, what it _thirteen_ refers to B himself. Thirteen, two. That could mean how B was the second in line to be L. In that case, then _twelve_ should be the first in line, right? So, maybe twelve is _A_." Matt leaned in over his friend's shoulder, pointing at each number on the paper as he spoke. Unlike with D, neither boy particularly minded if their personal space was invaded by the other unless they were feeling exceptionally hostile.

"Hold on. The first in line would be L, right? Since he's the very top. So it should be L one, B two. After all, L is the twelfth letter in the alphabet."

A mental light bulb went off in both their heads synchronously, the sudden realisation making Mello lift up his head quickly enough to bash his skull into Matt's chin. They hissed in union, but quickly disregarded the mild pain, more focused on the excitement of possibly progressing in decoding the note from the deceased teenager.

Mello spoke while the red-haired boy nursed his chin. "L is the twelfth letter in the alphabet. Then that would mean _one_ is _A_, _thirteen_ is _M_, and _two_ is _B_."

L, A, M, B.

Lamb.

"...Lamb?"

"Lamb." He confirmed.

"So, he was a sheep-lover. Maybe he had an inflatable girlfriend sheep and loved her so much that he wrote her name everywhere with little hearts around it."

"Matt, think about it. A was pretty damn religious, in case you didn't know. Lambs in Christianity... Innocence? _Lamb Of God_?..."

"So, A thought he was a reincarnation of Jesus Christ?"

"Or a sacrifice?"

Sacrifice. He had always put others before himself, after all. It wasn't impossible to think that, if he truly believed it, he would "sacrifice" himself in order to appease some higher power. The idea of dying for a God wouldn't have been any effort at all for A. But to really think that he was to become a sacrifice, he truly must have been out of his mind. Had he come to that conclusion on his own? For how many years had he been writing his code, knowing the true meaning of it? Perhaps he had been waiting for something to happen before he could die... Or someone?

"I guess we can't find out for sure if we're right, since A and B are nothing but bones and memories now."

"...Yeah." Matt languidly perched himself beside his friend's feet. It was still too soon to tell Mello about what Near had told him.

_But if B is still alive..._

The suicide of a highly religious friend who believed in a land barren of crime and evil.

The death of the person who understood the future murderer's true potential and just how much he could do with it.

A detective who imprisoned the lives of criminals without any trouble at all for his own amusement, who had mysteriously changed since the date of an unrecognisable body was carried away to the morgue.

L had always seen catching criminals as a game, but Kira wanted to eradicate all the players.

Just like an extremely immature child who wanted to be better at everything the real L had ever done.

If L is a genius, then B is an extreme genius. If L is a freak, B is an extreme freak. If L eradicates criminals...

...Then B would eradicate them all.

To create the world that A dreamed of...

To truly ameliorate the man he lived solely for surpassing...

_Has B become both L and Kira?_


End file.
